


Disclosure

by Hasegawa



Category: Hannibal (TV), X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Erik is not a Happy Bunny, F/F, F/M, M/M, silently dangerous Charles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 19:57:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6580240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hasegawa/pseuds/Hasegawa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik Lensherr doesn’t like people at all. what he knew from his job is that human are not that sociable and as humane as they claimed to be. yet a look at Dr. Charles Xavier–the casual psychiatrists who helped his department–changed his mind. </p><p>Nobody is as perfect as Dr. Charles Xavier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a short drabble. May or may not be continued. You are warned.

Charles Xavier was many things: beloved professor, wealthy heir of Xavier fortune, heart of parties, science geek, excellent drinker, a protective older brother of an adoptive sister. He got three PhDs from various famous universities, including Columbia, Harvard and Oxford; in genetics, psychology and forensic biology. He is currently working mainly as a genetic professor and psychiatrist consultant for police in his free time. People wonder how come he still got time to have his tea time, but Charles managed.

 

He was also famous for his cooking ability—he enjoyed inviting friends and guests to his Xavier mansion for a dinner date and excellent conversation. He usually demands the guests to bring some excellent wine to match, but sometimes he provided the drinks as well, but he never let others bring their own food. It was all Charles’ cooking, because it’s his _thing_. He needs to prepare them himself, fresh ingredients for every single one of them. He even acquired the ingredients by himself; because it wasn’t widely sold in supermarkets.

 

What people didn’t know was that he was The Oxford Ripper.

 

 

* * *

 

“We found another one. Come here as soon as possible.”

 

Erik Lehnsherr groaned. He didn’t like being woken up by this stuff early in the morning. He tried to gather himself, feeling very grumpy and tempted to lay back onto the bed again. But the bed was drench from his sweat, and his dogs were already panting beside his low bed, asking for their breakfast.

 

“Fine.”

 

He didn’t feel particularly friendly that morning, although to be fair he never felt sociable at all. How could he, when every morning he woke up drenched in sweats from nightmares of bad past memories and things that haunted him. His line of work didn’t help either—all the cases he had finished and unfinished all taught him how scary human can be, the so-called social and humane “being”. He slowly tidied up his bed, shivering a bit from the morning cold.

 

There was another victim of the Oxford Ripper. The Ripper who always kills in multiple of three, and this was the second after the first just a few days ago. The Oxford Ripper started its (Erik refused to call a Ripper as _humane_ ) killing 5 years ago. The first 3 set of victims were sporadic, the first  50 years old lawyer, the second a 18 years old teenage girl, and the last is 23 years old nurse. All of them missing some organs or the other, but never the same organs, and all of their bodies were—for the lack of word—beautifully arranged. Like an art exhibition.

 

The second batch was a year and a half after—this time with 35 years old housewife, 40 years old white-collar worker and a 20 years old university student. Nothing to link them at all, other than they all lived in the same city.

 

This time is the third batch, and the first victim was a 19 years old girl, unemployed. Her body was displayed in the middle of empty slot, impaled on old deer antlers. The autopsy team, as usual, was at lost. Erik didn’t believe that they could actually do what they was supposed to do, and he had voiced out his opinion on it, yet his boss never took it seriously. Damn Shaw.

 

He changed into proper attire—an old shirt and working pants, before grabbing the dog foods and filled up his dogs’ dishes. They all huddled towards the bowl, happily lapping on the dishes. Eric made a coffee for himself, instant powder—he couldn’t afford those fancy shit, as long as he gets his dose of caffeine, everything’s fair game.

 

And then he was off to the scene.

 

 

* * *

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry this turning into more of a rom comm instead of the artsy horror it deserves. Please someone help.

People avoid Erik as much as possible. Even Sebastian Shaw, the head detective for the investigation, only approached him when he knew Erik was not in one of his moods. Erik was borderline psychopath, people say; but he was valuable to the investigation because Erik has strong instinct and sense of smell—he was kind of a human German Sheppard. Some jokes that even his smile was like a dog; with full set of white and pointy teeth. 

 

“Hey, you’re here.” Shaw smiled his creepy smile, and patted Erik on the back. Erik didn’t like it; but he kept his silence because Sebastian was one of the handfuls human Erik could tolerate for living. Shaw vouched Erik to be in his team, became Erik’s reference and thus Erik has a job. Oh, Erik is also a part time lecturer in the Xavier University, majoring in forensic science and profiling. “It’s him again, definitely. Nobody can make a corpse looks this pretty.”

 

Erik couldn’t help but agree. The 50 years old, pot-bellied man was covered with twigs and wild flowers, looking as if he was enacting the Statue of Adam; but instead of an apple to his mouth, he holds his own head. There was no blood at all, the body was pure white; almost marble-ish feature. One thing that kept it stand up was the large, straight wooden log that pierced from the man’s bottom to the end of his beheaded neck. With the background of morning light; the corpse looked like in the middle of spotlight.

 

“We haven’t find who he was. But we know for sure, this time he was killed for his blood. Not a drop left. Well, go ahead and see what you can add.”

 

Erik nodded and closed his eyes. His hands automatically touching the air around the corpse, like jazz hand. It was his habit. As if he was trying to attract information from those bodies without touching; through diffusion of stories. _Tell me your stories,_ Erik told them. And true enough, the air talked to him; like metals that attracted to magnets.

 

_I am a normal guy, walking home. I ended up in the killer’s path. I flirted with them. I told them their face looked beautiful like art. I wanted them to model. I am a painter. I am an artist of some sort. I love beautiful things. I am a blue blooded important person._

Erik opened his eyes. “This man is blue blood. He must have some sort of aristocracy status. He is a painter or artist. The Oxford Killer attracted his attention… the Oxford Killer must have been a beautiful… person.”

 

“Is he gay?” Shaw sneered, showing his disdain for same-sex relationship. “well, let’s see what we can have from here. Anything else, Erik?”

 

_I insulted them. They have pretty little head._

“The Killer… they just felt amused.” Erik whispered. “He felt like a God looking on talking monkeys—wondering how to turn the useless trash into something more enjoyable, more… beautiful.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, we all know that.” Shaw shrugged. “It’s been your diagnosis since day 1, buddy, and everyone confirmed it.”

 

Erik hissed and closed his eyes again. In the moment of weirdness, he took in everything; the marbled beheaded corpse, illuminated amongst twilight. It was beautiful.

 

And The Oxford Killer must be a beautiful…. Woman?

 

It couldn’t be. But the victim doesn’t look or feel gay at all. The man was the epitome of middle aged, boring baby boomer man who knows nothing about being gay or even contemplates that they might even be gay. The killer was beautiful in his eyes, so it must be a woman. Except maybe, a stunningly beautiful man… which would attract attention. Couldn’t be.

 

So the Oxford Killer must be a woman. A beautiful woman.

 

Erik didn’t want to share the information because he wasn’t sure about it, and the little details felt very intimate. Erik wanted to be the one who catch the Oxford Killer, getting closer as much as possible and feels their story.

 

“Hey Erik; don’t look like that. You look like you are ready to kill someone with your teeth.” Shaw laughed nervously and patted Erik’s back hard. “Let’s get back to the office till something new comes out, and I need to introduce you to new consultant we have for this case.”

 

“Who?” Erik growled.

 

“You won’t believe it – the Charles Xavier himself.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Hello my friend… it’s a pleasure to meet you all.” The cheery disposition of Charles felt like light beaming from a light house. It immediately brightened the room, and even Erik’s moody aura was gone in a flash. “My name is Charles Xavier and please call me Charles! You all look so wonderful this morning! How may I serve you today?”

 

Erik wanted to scream, Stop being so positive, but he was stunned when he turned to see the most beautiful man in his life. Charles’ cheery face with bright blue eyes—bluer than the ocean sky—and slight dimples on his cheek with freckles and pale face and kissable, pouty red lips made Erik’s mind stood still. He couldn’t even move.

 

Shaw smiled warmly, “Hello, Charles, nice to finally meet you too! Thank you for volunteering to be our consultant. This case is getting more urgent by minutes and this is the last victim of three. If we don’t catch the killer now, we might need to wait for another year or so till they appear again.”

 

Charles looked concerned and Erik wanted to hug the man and patted him and say, “there, there”. Erik blinked and punched his own face; which resulted in him falling to the floor, and by that, he dragged Charles who was standing near him, down too. They fell down, with Erik’s face on Charles’ covered with old man pants-crotch.

 

“…. I am sorry.” Erik caught himself from flailing like an idiot, and he stood up while giving a hand to pull Charles up. Charles was laughing, and his flushed cheek made him even more adorable. Erik felt like killing himself with embarrassment now.

 

“Don’t worry, my friend.” Charles laughed and Erik felt like he has been touched by an Angel’s voice. “Accidents happen to everyone.”

 

Erik felt like he has found something too holy for life. Charles Xavier was truly a good person, no matter what Erik wanted him to be. Who doesn’t know Charles Xavier in their university? The son of the family who owns the university (and a lot of other things), the geeky heart of the party genetic professor with a booty to kill for. Erik wanted to hate Charles just for the sake of it, but well, he lost. He fell in love the first time Charles said friend.

 

“What’s your name, darling?” the accented ‘rl’ made Erik goes woozy and smiled. His patented shark week smile came out, which made other people shy away; but it gave opposite reaction from Charles. “Oh my, you have a gorgeous smile!”

 

“Erik. Lehnsherr. Erik, with a K. Call me Erik.” Erik mumbled in between his smile, unable to believe that the star of Xavier University just complimented his smile.

 

It was the start of a wonderful friendship, or courting, if Erik has any chance to it.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's just everytime I wrote them together, it's either angst angst angst or humor stupid stupid everytime. 
> 
> My secret guilty pleasure. Hope you enjoy it with me too!


End file.
